A Single White Feather
by ShaYneYeofThEcrEatoR
Summary: This is a tribute to Hedwig, Harry's nights are riddles with nightmares, his relationship is falling apart, he does not know how to move on at the end of the war. One night he has a dream that changes all of these things. one-shot. Please R n R! enjoy!


I don't own Harry Potter so please don't sue!

A.N. I don't usually acknowledge the final book as the final book. I'm still waiting for the real one to come out, cuz in my mind, the Deathly Hallows was just a giant, badly written fanfiction. But since I finished reading it, I have wanted to write a tribute to Hedwig, so here it is:

A Single White Feather

Even though Voldemort had been defeated and the living nightmare was over, Harry found that his own was far from it. He did not blame himself for all his dear friends' deaths. He understood that he had done everything he could; he had done his very best, and even more so. He had mourned, but then he had moved on as life dictated.

Or at least he thought he had. But Harry did not realize quite how breakable he was, how he'd always been, for their faces swam between horrible nightmares of shadowy monsters stalking him. He often woke in the night sweat-streaked and panting.

Which is how it happened on this winter night, with snowflakes dancing slowly by the window.

Harry woke gasping for breath and shaking, the covers wrapped tightly around his arms and legs. He threw them off, struggling for a second before the cool air in the room hit him, sending goose bumps over his bare skin. Harry lifted his still trembling hands to his forehead, resting them there as he fought to regain control of his erratic breath, to slow his aching heartbeat. Ginny rolled over in bed, and with a groan awakened, looking Harry over worriedly. "Another nightmare," she whispered; it wasn't a question.

Harry nodded mutely. Ginny sat up and started to rub soothing circles across Harry's back. After a couple of moments of silence Harry took a shuddering breath, the noise grating across his ears.

"They were smothering me."

Ginny sighed, knowing that she would regret asking this, "Who were?"

"All of them: Lupin, Tonks, Fred, Dobby… all of them were clawing at my throat, sitting on my chest, pushing the air out of my lungs…" Ginny moved her hand and tangled her fingers in his black locks. This seemed to snap him back into reality, away from the memories of his dream, the likes of which were not fading away. He twitched his head away from Ginny's hand irritably and turned to look at her, really look at her. It had been months since either of them had met each other's eyes.

Her skin was paler, her freckles standing out in stark relief, and drawn more tightly around her bones. There were bags under her once bright eyes, which were now dulled from lack of sleep. Nights spent comforting the Boy Who Lived were not agreeing with Ginny Weasley. She, for once, did not shy away from Harry's gaze, but looked straight back at him tiredly. He could see himself reflected there, and he saw what she thought of him. Harry suppressed the urge to snort. He had seen this coming. He had known what type of girl Ginny was, knew that even though she did love him, in a way he could never be enough for her. But instead of sadness, the emotion he had expected when this time came, he felt relieved.

He rolled off the bed and walked towards the door.

"Harry?" he turned around, regretting it instantly. Ginny did not look sad either. The look in her eyes was one Harry had always despised: pity.

"Good night, Ginny," he said, turning back towards the door. He stumbled down the stairs, trying not to think about the reactions his friends would have to the break-up, especially Ron's reaction. Harry was too tired. What he really wanted were a couple of hours of sleep not punctuated by dreadful dreams and mournful memories. He fell onto the couch, conjuring a pillow and blanket from thin air. As he tried to snuggle down, a cool breeze ruffled his hair. He looked up. Across the room the window was open, allowing the winter wind and snow entrance. Harry was too tired to close it though, his limbs too heavy. Sleep pulled him too enticingly into its embrace. He knew that he really should close the window, as it was getting cold in the room, but his sleep deprived brain refused to command his limbs into action. Hedwig should be coming home soon and Harry didn't want to leave her out in the cold.

Harry Potter dropped off into sleep with the window still open.

It was cold. Harry dreamt that he was walking and around him was darkness. A strange feeling of deja vu encroached upon his senses and Harry, a man who did not shy away from much, did not want to continue on. But he did, and as he walked a soft light started to fall around him. Resembling snow, it drifted lazily downward. A flake tickled at his cheek and instead of the expected chill, Harry felt warmth spread from the point. He stopped walking and held out his hand, reaching up and out to the strange phenomenon. One landed perfectly in the center of his palm, and at closer inspection Harry saw it for what it truly was.

A white feather.

It melted away into his skin, leaving a golden afterglow and a lingering feeling of warmth that tingled in his hand. Harry began walking again, letting the cold from the darkness fade away as the soft feathers landed on his hair and shoulder, covering him in a warm golden glow. Harry noticed, rather abruptly, that he was walking through trees. A beautiful forest stood around him, the same feathery snow covering the wintry branches and ground. He walked on, enjoying the warmth and peace around him in the dreamlike place. Ahead of him stood a large tree, the largest in fact that he had seen thus far. It stood regally in the twilight, its leaves rustling slightly in the gentle wind. On the lowest branch sat a strangely beautiful woman. A woman who seemed so familiar to Harry, who knew that he had never seen her before; he would definitely remember a meeting such as that. As he gazed up at her curiously, the feeling of deja vu swelled within his chest and nostalgia swept him away.

She had short, feathery white hair, speckled with tints of gold and brown. Her eyes were large and looked like molten gold; her eyelashes were long and curved, brushing her cheeks as she blinked. Her skin was tanned to a coffee brown and she was garbed in a white summer dress that flowed about her frame as if its substance was nothing more than the wind itself.

As Harry approached the tree, the girl smiled down at him. Harry stopped a few feet from the trees and, without meaning to, smiled back up at her.

"Hullo, Harry." Her voice was rich and deep. She jumped down from the branch, her skirt billowing out like a cloud. Harry started, for the lowest branch was rather high up, but she did not plummet; she floated down as if gravity did not apply to her. When she landed, Harry noticed that she barely reached his shoulder's height, her form petite.

"Er… hi." Harry said, blushing at his lackluster reply. The butterflies in his stomach were setting off fireworks.

Her smile widened. Harry noticed how white her teeth were, how full her lips were. He noticed, now that she was closer, that her nose was a little bit on the wide side, but this imperfection just added to her beauty. Her golden oval eyes bore straight through to Harry's soul. "You don't recognize me?" the smile was in her voice and his heart skipped up into his throat.

"I think I would remember meeting a girl like you," Harry started dumbly; his tongue seemed to swell and flop within his mouth. He was suddenly aware of just how big and clumsy his hands were. He felt as if he could break this vision before him.

Her smile faded somewhat, but before Harry could even register this fact it was hoisted back up; this time though it was stained with a deep nameless something that had not been there before. Harry ached to replace the carefree one.

"You have met me," she turned around, her bare feet making a soft whisper against the grass as she walked away. Harry found himself following her. She spun around but still walked on.

"I'm sure I haven't met you," he retorted. She slid behind the tree, her giggles echoing off the surrounding foliage.

"Oh, but you have, Harry my dear." He ran to catch up to her but stopped when he entered the shade of the tree. He could see the hem of her dress before she swished it out of sight. Harry leaned his head against the tough bark.

"Maybe if you'd tell me your name I'd remember."

"Hmmmm," he heard her shift on the other side, "No, I think I'll let you guess."

"What?" Harry yelped. He dashed around the trunk ready to proclaim how unjust this idea was just in time to see her skirts disappearing beyond the shadows of the forest, her laughter turning into a myriad of happy voices singing through the branches. "H-hey wait!" Harry ran after her. He had not felt this light in a very long time. He chased her through the trees, quickly catching up, not knowing whether or not she was letting him. He caught her under a sycamore tree, grabbing her wrist and spinning her around. Her eyes widened with her smile as Harry pinned her against the bark. Her wrist felt tiny in his hand. Her skin was softer than anything Harry had ever touched. His heart jumped in a rather painful way, beating a staccato pattern into his ribs. He moved his hand from her wrist down her arm and up her neck, finally coming to rest with her face cupped gently. Why did this girl with the golden eyes seem so familiar to him?

Those eyes began to mist over. Her breath caught as she leaned her head farther into the warmth of his hand, her chest heaved in a giant sigh. She rolled her eyes up, "Fine, I'll give you a hint. When you met me, I didn't look ANY-thing like this."

"Okay… are you going to give me any more hints?"

Her smile grew mischievous, "I guess that would depend upon the questions you ask." She ducked under Harry's arm.

"Hey," he chuckled, grabbing for her, but she was already gone. Harry spun around and began the chase anew.

'Okay,' he thought as he dodged through the trees after the fleeting image of her feather-like dress. 'All I have to do is ask the right questions.'

"When did I meet you?"

"When you were 11 years and 1 day old."

Harry thought back through all those years, to his 11th birthday. He was surprised and saddened when he couldn't remember much. He knew that he had met Hagrid. Knew that he had found out he was a wizard, and knew that it was when he had found out the truth of how his parents had died. But he remembered nothing else.

"So we went to Hogwarts together?" he asked to the empty forest around him. He looked around, trying to find any telltale sign of her passing.

"Yes," her voice came from right above him.

"Huh?" he looked up just in time to see her jumping to a branch in the next tree over. Harry shook his head and followed his lithe friend.

"Er, okay, what House were you in?"

"I wasn't in a House."

"But you just said you went to Hogwarts with me," Harry panted out.

"Only questions are allowed to pass through your lips, Harry!" she shouted over her shoulder. The chase continued in this fashion through the forest, Harry becoming more and more confused with each question that was answered.

Ahead of him the mysterious girl broke through the trees into the dazzling sunlight. Harry followed closely behind. A hill slanted steadily downwards, towards the shore of a crystalline lake, its blue reflecting the sky perfectly.

"Okay," gasped Harry, exasperated, "So _what_ are you?" For he had exhausted every other question he could think of.

She stopped and turned suddenly, standing by the shore. Harry tried and failed to stop as abruptly as she had. They collided and landed in the water with a great splash. Sputtering and blinking furiously, his face steamed with the heat from his blush. "S-sorry," he said, trying to help her up. She was giggling too much though. And then Harry started giggling along, laughing more heartily than he had in years. They helped each other out of the water, sitting down on the grass past the shoreline, still giggling.

She was the first to calm down. Though she was still smiling, the sadness was back. Harry tried to sober up, but the smile still remained. He was just so happy.

"I was your very first birthday present."

"What?" Harry asked, still feeling giddy and not knowing at all what she was talking about. She placed her hand over his. Harry flicked his gaze down and was surprised at his own feeling of contentment, at how natural his skin against hers felt. Then he lifted his gaze back up to her golden eyes.

"I was your very first birthday present."

The silence stretched out between them like fine silk as Harry tried to make sense of her words. The memory trickled back slowly at first: the feelings of happiness, amazement, disbelief. The images came faster, until the realization hit him.

Hedwig was still looking at him, weariness apparent in her large golden eyes, hope giving them a sad glimmer.

Harry leaned down swiftly and Hedwig's eyes widened as their lips met, taken by surprise. A joy like Harry had never known swept through him as she kissed him back. Her lips were soft and gave way under his. He brought his hand up behind her neck, tilting her head back and deepening the kiss, her body arched into his. She stroked the side of his face, her touch as gentle as a wing's brush.

After a few moments that held the promise of forever, but were not nearly enough for Harry, she pressed slightly against his chest.

"Hedwig." Harry's voice was raspy and deep. He cleared his throat awkwardly, blushing, "Good to see you again."

Her smile hit him like sunshine. "You too, Harry." She leaned in and hugged him, then, shyly, she kissed him. Harry returned the kiss, but more gently this time, not wanting to scare her away again. This kiss was softer, sweeter, and Harry found himself missing it before it had even ended. She seemed so fragile to him as they pulled away from each other, her body hollow.

"How have you been, Harry? How are Ron and Hermoine and everyone else? What all happened after I …" she blanched and blushed, turning to look at the smooth surface of the lake. Harry decided on the sky, and silence pierced them for a long time.

But Hedwig did not apologize for her question, nor for the heavy silence that screamed between them. She did not stutter out an obvious subject change, or look pityingly at Harry from behind her hand. She simply waited. Ready to listen when Harry was ready to talk. Just like she always had.

"I finished what he started," Harry finally began, after letting out the breath that he had not realized he had been holding. Hedwig did not utter a sound to prompt Harry on. He talked first about his own exploits during that year in a dead sort of voice. He talked about what had gone on at Hogwarts while he was away, how he could do nothing to help the children there. He talked about the other Order members.

Then he talked about the deaths, about all those irreversible consequences. His voice had an edge to it, serrated, fluctuating between anger and anguish.

He tried to talk about the end. He tried to tell her about what he had done afterwards, what he'd been doing with himself these past three years. As he talked his voice grew quiet. He spoke of Ginny. The good times, the bad times. Hedwig stiffened as he spoke of his now ex-lover. Harry glanced down at her. She had a strangely vindictive look on her face, part anger and part satisfaction.

Harry smirked and continued on. He told Hedwig about his nightmares. His voice shook. He confided everything in her. And she listened silently and patiently when Harry had finished. He didn't want to look her in the eye, afraid of what he would see there. Pity, perhaps? Accusation even?

Her delicate hand caressed his cheek, stroked his lips, tickled his ear. Harry felt he might drift off to sleep until…

"OW! Whadjya do that for?" For she had tugged his ear so violently that he was now face to face, eye to eye, and nose to nose with her. Harry realized the stupidity in his doubts and fears. She said nothing and Harry could not detect any known emotion in the depths of her eyes. Her silence meant more to Harry than any words would have.

She stood up and leaned over him, her breath tickling past his ear, "Catch me if you can." And she set off once again, flying towards the trees. Harry laughed, lighter now than he had been since he had found out who he truly was, and the responsibility that had settled on his shoulders; lighter yet after being able to talk freely about everything that he had been through. They played for hours, Harry never quite catching up with Hedwig, and not minding at all. He somehow never once ran out of breath, but breathed in the fresh air.

Much later, Harry could not tell how long for sure, Hedwig and he lay under the giant tree, soft twilight shifting the light over them. His head rested in her lap as she brushed her fingers up his neck and into his hair, over his cheek and around his ear. He was drifting off into sleep, rising through the sky. Far off he heard her voice, "No more sadness, Harry." Her breath was a cool whisper on his skin. The wind grew colder.

His eyes snapped open. He was alone, it was nighttime, and he was lying on a couch. Wind blew in from the still-open window. He got up and looked over the couch: a pink tinge kissed the horizon, so not quite night, but morning, the beginning of a new day. Harry groaned as he got up to close the window, trying to remember the dream he had been having. It had been a good one, he was sure of it. He stopped in surprise before he got to the window. On the floor, atop a pile of freshly fallen snow, was a single white feather.

~Edited by kitsuneluvuh~


End file.
